


Blood Shower

by Firebull



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Steter Week 2017, Stiles Stilinski Gets Bitten Instead of Scott McCall, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, season 1 rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 20:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12872535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firebull/pseuds/Firebull
Summary: After a successful hunt, Stiles takes a long, relaxing shower.[Steter Week Day 1 - Season 1 Rewrite]





	Blood Shower

Everything was red.

They just came back from a successful hunt — their first hunt together - and Stiles was covered in blood. As in _covered_ covered. It was everywhere: from sticking his hair to his face to it sliding down his body and soaking into his shoes. He just hoped that they didn’t leave any evidence in the bus.

The driver was but the first, the beginning of _his_ \- no — _their_ revenge and they would see it completed. 

Stiles hoped that his dad would stay away, he didn’t want to hurt him, but it was as his mother used to say: “If the system is too corrupt to help you, help yourself.” 

( _So maybe she only said that to steal some chocolate bars and lollies from doctors, but it fit the situation at hand._ )

He pried his shoes and jacket off with relative ease. His pants he had to cut himself out — not that he would have been able to wear them again. All of his clothes would be burned in that warehouse at the edge of town were everyone burns their trash.

( _He had heard his dad despair over not having enough people to keep someone there 24/7 and he could always just walk into the station and check the schedule. Everyone would just assume he has a new obsession — not they would be wrong._ )

Stiles made his way towards the bathroom. He probably left a trail of red foot prints on the floor, but Peter would take care of it. He always did.

Once in the bathroom he closed the door behind him. It wasn’t to distance himself from his alpha as any distance between them had been breached already, but to rather shut the world out. To just leave him like this: with nothing but blood, an empty bathroom and the low hum of an unbreakable connection.

He cut off the rest of his clothes and put them in a bag already filled from when Peter went out to get himself a “midnight snack”. Peter was always hungry for something at midnight. Whenever he hungers for food, revenge or, more often then not, Stiles varies daily.

It was on a night where he was searching for food that Stiles stumbled upon him. When the gigantic beast with the blood from its last kill running down its body jumped him he thought his life would be over. He was right in a way, but still so very wrong.

He never thought he would end up in such a relationship. Never thought he would be one to bend over the nearest surface at the feel of a simple touch. Never thought he would revel at feeling his partner’s come, his knot in him. Yet he did so gladly, presenting himself to his alpha and getting taken over and over again.

Stiles carefully stepped into the shower and turned on the warm water from where Peter turned it ice cold. He turned into the spray and watched as dark red-brownish water went down the drain.

He shampooed his slightly grown out hair. While his alpha was perfectly fine with grapping his whole head while in his full form, he liked having something to hold on to, to tilt Stiles’ head just the right way in his human-form.

Peter liked — _needed_ — to feel in control of something after 6 years of being helpless and Stiles liked giving up the control he had to have ever since his mom died.

Stiles slowly worked his way down his body, scrubbing at the thick layer of blood. It took multiple applications of soap for the water to turn even the slightest bit clean.

When he was relatively clean Stiles turned his scrubbing into more relaxing touches. He ran his hand over his neck where Peter’s fangs breached his skin the last time they had sex. The bite was no more but slight indents, impossible to make out unless you knew they were there.

Down his now more muscled chest which Peter had an obsession with. Stiles knew why. He came to Peter whispering into his ear about his pecs swelling with milk in order to feed their cubs while being knotted and his stomach slowly bulging with the cum inside of him many times.

Stiles smelled the familiar small spike of his arousal through the smell of blood and soap at the thought and pressed down on the bite mark on his wrist. A warmth like no other, almost smothering in its intensity, was what he got in return.

The warmth calmed Stiles down, made his arousal turn into contentment. At least it did for a bit until the gory sight of the driver they turned inside out flashed in front of his eyes. He shuddered at the memory — or maybe it was the water turning cold, or a mix of both. He did not know.

After a few more moments he turned off the shower.

Stiles stepped out of the shower and halfheartedly dried himself off with a towel. The last remains of blood colored it slightly pink. He walked over to the sink to scrub the last of the blood from under his nails. He scrubbed and scrubbed. His eyes focused on the smallest hints of blood. He couldn’t leave any traces. None at all.

_Not._

He scrubbed.

_One._

He scrubbed more.

_Single._

He scrubbed faster.

_Dried._

He scrubbed harder.

**_Drop._ **

He scrubbed until he broke the skin of his fingertips. Blood started to flow down his fingers as he scrambled to turn on the faucet. The slightly colored water ran down the drain and he was left with flawless, blood free skin.

He rubbed over the newly healed skin with his thumb and looked up at the mirror. A white layer of condensation coated the mirror that didn’t even let a hint of his reflection show. This wouldn’t do.

Stiles wiped away a stripe of condensation, his hand made a squeaky sound and left a distorted reflection of himself. He stared at himself. He didn’t look any different.

Still the same buzz-cut, still the same eyes, still the same lips, still the same moles, still the same..same..same..same..and yet-

He flashes his blue eyes.

And yet everything has changed and no one would know.

He stared at his werewolf eyes. Blue - like ice shining in the sunlight. Blue - like a cloudless sky. Blue - like clear water — always moving never truly still - just like him.

Blue truly was pretty.

A pair of red eyes appeared in the mirror — the color bled out over the wet surface. 

He didn’t move as the figure got closer to him. As an arm wound around his naked waist. As claws slightly scratched his skin as fingers pressed him back into a muscled, scarred chest. As fangs marked his neck once more.

He had nothing to fear. Not now. Not ever. Not from _him_.

Red was just as pretty. 


End file.
